


This Years Love

by LWF



Series: Family First [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Grace is the best mom, He Gets a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Other, he'll eventually get a redemption arc in this series but uh not yet..., luther's a huge dick, protective siblings over Five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 08:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWF/pseuds/LWF
Summary: Dolores goes missing. Five loses it.





	This Years Love

With the crazy amounts of adrenaline that comes from trying to stop the fucking apocalypse from happening steadfast fading, Number Five finds himself unable to ignore the things he’s been keeping on the back-burner for the last few days (decades). 

He can’t remember the last time he got a decent night’s sleep. 

Or sat down and actually enjoyed a meal, period, much less with others.

He gingerly touches the bandage Mom wrapped around the bullet wound on his side and inhales sharply at the agony that flares up. He doesn’t remember it hurting this bad when he’d been shot initially, or even when he’d lost so much blood that he’d passed out in front of Diego and Allison. 

He supposes that was also due to the adrenaline. Now that all the urgency is gone, it feels as though a numbness he hadn’t been aware he’d been coated in is leaving him. 

It could also be that he’s in what essentially is a child’s body and not his own, which has endured so many hardships--or had. All those scars, the things he’s experienced, they’re only alive in his memories now. He’s not sure yet how to feel about that. 

He falls asleep trying not to think about the burning ache at his side, only to wake up in the middle of the night drenched in a cold sweat, eyes darting all around the room, reaching underneath his pillow for the gun no one knows is stashed there. 

It takes him a few seconds of too-hard breathing to remember where he is before he lowers his weapon. “You’re ok.” he whispers to himself, “Delores, I think--” he pauses, realizing she’s not in bed with him. “Delores?” he turns on the lamp on the nightstand and sits up, biting back a whimper of pain when the quick movement pulls at his stitches. 

He stands up to search for her when he doesn’t see that she’s in the chair he last saw her sitting in. He looks inside the closet, underneath his bed, but she’s not in the room. Maybe she went downstairs? It’s still nighttime, the house quiet, everyone asleep in their rooms, so he tries not to make any noise as he pads down the hall looking for his companion. 

“Delores?” he half-whispers into the darkness when he gets downstairs. “Are you at the bar? What happened to all that mumbo jumbo about me drinking way too much?” 

She’s not at the bar or in the living room. She’s not in the kitchen or in dear old dad’s office either. Where the hell is she? 

“Delores, this isn’t funny anymore.” he keeps searching, searches every single room in the house, minus the ones his siblings currently occupy, thirty something rooms and nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

 

 

It’s been hours now, and the sun is starting to rise. 

He doesn’t realize what time it is, so he’s startled by the sound of his siblings waking up and headed into the common areas of the house. 

He’s back in the kitchen, searching the cupboards, sure he missed a spot where she could be hiding, when they find him. 

“Ooh, you gonna’ cook breakfast?” Klaus inquires, sitting down next to Ben’s ghostly form at the table. “Didn’t know you knew how.” 

“I want mom to cook.” Diego chimes in, when Grace enters the kitchen as well. 

“Eggs and bacon it is.” she smiles. 

“Mama’s boy.” Klaus teases, ready for the spoon that gets chucked his way. 

“Hey, you ok?” Vanya asks, when she notices the dark circles under her brothers eyes and the slightly frantic look on his face. 

Five shakes his head. “Have you seen her anywhere?” 

Vanya tilts her head. “Seen who?” 

“Delores!” he replies, a little aggressively, impatient. 

“Umm, the--” she almost says mannequin, before remembering Klaus telling her how much he dotes on that doll. “Oh, um, Delores, no, I don’t think so. Have you guys seen Delores?” she asks the others, now that Allison, and much to her dismay, Luther, have joined them. 

It’s only been a couple of days since the whole chamber incident, and she is still very much wary of him anytime he enters a room. Not to mention that he’s also been extremely standoffish with her. 

Allison shakes her head and everyone else responds in kind. Diego looks at Five incredulously, “Dude, you lost your girlfriend?” 

Five glares daggers at him. “She’s not my girlfriend.” She’s much more than that. 

“I saw her last in your room, Number Five, at exactly ten forty two PM, I believe Luther was holding her.” Grace inputs helpfully, as she flips a pancake up in the air. 

Five turns to Luther like a rabid dog, “Where is she?!” 

Everyone else turns to Luther as well, confused as to what he would even want with the mannequin. 

Luther sits up straighter and shrugs casually. “That thing was ugly and riddled with bullets. It was an eyesore.” 

Five notices the past tense Luther’s using to talk about his Delores with dawning horror. “What the hell do you mean  _ ‘was’ _ ?” 

Luther crosses his arms. “I threw her out. She’s somewhere in the city dump by now, where she belongs. I know we’ve all been too busy saving the world or whatever, to sit down and address your weird relationship with an inanimate object, but here it is: you carrying conversations with that thing is unhealthy at best. Now it’s gone and you can move on.” he explains, an air of finality to his tone. 

Klaus’ mouth drops. “You monster!” he exclaims, looking at Number One like he just grew two extra heads. “You had no right!” he may not know exactly all the nuances of Five’s relationship with Delores, but from their conversations pertaining to her, he knows she means a lot to him. More even than he lets on.

“Klaus is right, why the hell wouldn’t you talk to him first, at least?” Diego shakes his head in something akin to shock. He’d like to say he can’t believe Luther would do something like this, but their “big brother” has always thought he knew best when it came to everyone else's well being. Whether they liked it or not was of no consequence to him. 

Allison, who’s sitting next to Luther, stands immediately, her face speaking volumes. 

Luther grimaces at the look she’s giving him. A mixture of “how could you?” and pure disappointment. “You guys can’t be serious, he talks to that thing like it’s a person. What, we’re just supposed to ignore how crazy that is?” 

Vanya looks to Five; his head is down and he hasn’t uttered a single word yet. “Five?” 

Luther stands up and slowly approaches his brother. “It’s for the best, you know that, right?” he insists, anxious now that Five won’t speak. He’d expected a giant ‘fuck you’ for his efforts. The quiet is both unexpected and insanely unnerving. 

“Say something.” he demands.

Vanya gets in between the two brothers, trying to make herself bigger despite being the smallest of the siblings, in order to block Five from Luther’s sight. “Leave him alone. He doesn’t have to talk to you, especially not after what you just did.” 

Luther clenches his fists. “This doesn’t concern you, Seven.” 

She’s heard that her whole life; it still stings to hear it, but for her brothers sake, she pushes the feeling away and stands her ground. “It does. He’s my brother, too.” 

“Oh my, are you hurt, Number Five?” Grace stops cooking and approaches her “youngest” offspring, wearing a mask of concern. 

Everybody turns to look at Five. 

He is devastated, trembling noticeably. “I’m _fine_.” he tries to say, but his voice cracks horribly on the last word, and to his embarrassment, tears start to well in his eyes. 

The room is too small, everyone is staring at him, the pancakes are burning on the stove and Delores is gone. 

Just gone. Probably laying in the dump somewhere, alone and scared. 

Alone. 

Scared. 

God, she’s all alone. 

Sitting there among rubble and trash, all alone. 

Five’s breath hitches and any semblance of control he’s been attempting to hold onto dissipates as the floodgates open. 

“You’re lying!” he lashes out. “She’s not--she can’t be gone. I--we were--” he can barely get the words out, his chest is heavy and the world feels like it’s crumbled around him all over again. He hugs himself too tight, ignoring the way it makes his side burn. 

He can’t breath. He needs some air. He needs to get away from this place. 

He conjures his power, hands turning blue and….

Graces hands appear over his and the blue vanishes instantly. “Please stay.” she tilts her head and her expression is almost one of melancholy. “I will help you locate your friend.” she promises. 

Five snatches his hands away, and he should be angry that she’s distracting him from leaving. He’s not a child anymore. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need his mother anymore. He doesn’t need anyone. 

He’s in her arms not a second later, crying like a baby, anyway. 

His arms wrap all the way around her waist and he buries his head in her chest. 

At some point in his life, maybe when he was four or five years old, he had reluctantly seeked affection from Grace. When he was still young enough to want it, when he wasn’t yet so arrogant and concerned with how the others viewed him. 

She was the one good thing Reginald had done for them as children. 

She doesn’t feel like a machine right now, when she holds him in her arms, or when she starts to caress the back of his head and tells him everything is going to be ok. She feels very real. As real as Delores. And that thought alone reignites the tears, as he shakes and sobs with renewed vigor, devastation clawing at his throat. Oh Delores. 

He feels all of four years old right now. His heart aches and all he wants is his mom. He never thought he’d have this again. Not after so many decades. 

“There there, everything will be alright, I have you.” at nearly five feet, ten inches, she’s able to rest her chin against the top of Fives head while she holds him close. 

Diego takes the keys on the kitchen counter and motions at Klaus. “I’m gonna’ go to the dump and look for Delores.” he says, very determined, voice raw. “You comin’?” 

Klaus takes half a moment to toss a worried look over at Five, but concedes that he’s in good hands for the time being. “Right behind you.” 

Allison starts to follow but Vanya takes her hand in hers. “It’s better if you stay here. You’re still healing.” 

Allison pouts but doesn’t disagree. She feels useless without her voice. Although she can’t think of any words to say to poor Five that would make the situation any better, anyhow. 

She can’t remember a time, even as children, when she saw Five cry or even wallow. She wants to kick Luther’s ass and give him some goddamn common sense but it’ll have to wait until she’s in top shape again. 

Before Diego, Klaus and Ben can leave, Luther finally speaks up. “I did lie.” it’s such a quiet admission almost no one hears him. 

Allison glares at him and taps her ear for him to repeat himself. 

“I lied. I was going to throw her away last night but I--I don’t know, I had doubts, so I shoved her in my closet. She’s still in there.” 

Vanya takes a deep breath to avoid shattering all the glass in the kitchen. “Can you--” Diego’s nodding and running upstairs before she can finish her request. It’s nice to finally have a voice people listen to in the family. She looks at Luther in disdain. “Is there somewhere you need to be right now?” 

Luther gulps. “What?” 

Allison mouths the word “Go” pointing towards the door angrily. 

“But I--” Luther stops himself when he looks at Five, who’s still huddled into moms’ embrace, sobs wracking his tiny frame. He grabs his keys and lumbers out, past Klaus, who’s giving his best disapproving face. Something he never thought he’d be at the end of if you’d asked him just a few days ago. 

Diego runs back into the kitchen with Delores in tow. 

Grace smiles at her son. “Oh look what we have here. Diego’s found your friend, Five.” 

Without peeking up from his mother’s hold, he reaches one hand out for his companion. Diego hurriedly if carefully hands the mannequin to him, surprised at the soft “Thank you” he receives in return. 

“Anytime.” 

The feel of Delores pressed against his ribs, even if it is his bad side, feels too good, after thinking she was gone for good. He still remembers the visceral fear he felt when Cha-Cha and Hazel had shot her up at the department store not too long ago. He’d risked his life to save her then, and the thought of losing her again today...it was too much to bare. 

“Would you like a pancake?” Grace asks, still stroking the back of his head. 

After what seems like an eternity Five nods. “Yes.” he clears his throat--god, that hurts, he hasn’t cried like that in years--and straightens himself, “And uh, one for Delores too.” 

Grace smiles as she makes her way to the stove top, where she discards the overcooked pancake into the trash bin and starts a new batch. “Of course. Who else would like some pancakes? I’m also making bacon and eggs.” she announces, humming happily now that the ordeal has been resolved. 

She wishes all of her children could be here, that they got along all of the time, instead of on the rare occasion, but it’s nice to have most of them here again to take care of. 

“I’ll take half a dozen.” Diego says, as he takes a seat once again, the rest of the table murmuring in agreement as they sit down. 

Klaus volunteers to help Grace prepare breakfast, though mainly he’s there to stick his fingers in the bowl of raw batter while Grace pretends not to notice, and Ben warns him that salmonella is still in fact a thing.

“How am I the one who’s dead?” Ben bemoans. He’d always been the one with the most common sense of the bunch; he truly has no idea how Klaus of all people is still breathing. 

Part of Five wants to run and hide in his room, lock the door and lay in bed with Delores until nightfall, or maybe until everyone’s forgotten all about his stupid tantrum. The other part, the part that’s lonely and hasn’t sat down to eat with anyone (besides Dolores) in literal decades, wins out in the end. 

He’s glad no one says anything when he sits Delores on his lap at the table, one hand secured around her waist like a lifeline, refusing to let her go, even though normally he has her sit in her own chair. He eats his pancake in silence, mostly listening to the others make idle conversation. He only speaks again when Grace asks him if he wants a cup of fresh OJ. “Coffee.” and then, “Please.” he adds. 

 

 

It’s not until much later in the day, when the sun has begun to set, that Allison knocks on Five’s open door. 

He motions for her to come in. He puts down the book he’s been reading and nods when she points to his bed. He scoots back to make room. 

Allison writes something into her pad and shows it to him. 

_ Are you okay?  _

Five puts it down to puberty, the fact that his ears burn at the question, that is. He looks away. “I’m fine. I don’t wanna’ talk about it.” 

Allison keeps writing. 

_ Okay. Can I ask you something else then?  _

Five raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Shoot.” 

_ How did you two meet?  _ She points at the mannequin. 

Five chews on his lip a moment. “You’ll just laugh at me.” his palms are getting sweaty. Hasn’t he already been through enough humiliation for one day? 

Allison flicks him on the forehead and shakes her head. ‘I won’t.’ she mouths, looking too sincere for him to think otherwise. 

Five sighs. “I uh, I’d been alone for a while, just, you know, searching for life, even though I was pretty sure by that point I was the last person left on Earth.” he shrugs. “It was winter time. It was cold as fuck, I couldn’t feel my limbs and I was pretty sure I’d die if I didn’t find anything warmer to wear, or at least somewhere to take shelter that wasn’t a gaping hole.

“Anyway, I wander into this huge department store, and I’m in luck, not everything had been eviscerated to dust. I’m in there packing gear into my duffel bag and then--” he clears his throat, a blush settling high on his cheeks. “I saw her, standing there in the distance and I thought ‘holy shit, another person’, you know? 

“I only had this one little half-assed flashlight with me and it was dark as all hell in the store. Wasn’t until I got close enough that I realized I’d been yelling at…” Five stops abruptly and takes hold of Delores’ good hand, squeezing tight. “That I’d been yelling at Delores.” he finishes.

Allison smiles kindly and they sit in companionable silence for a while before she starts to yawn. It’s been a long day, to say the least. She gets up, a little wobbly, and Five escorts her to her room before bidding her a good night. 

 

 

Five goes back to his room for Delores and then wanders into the upstairs area where Grace normally resides to charge at night. 

She’s just sat down at her charging station in front of all of the paintings when he intrudes. “Hey mom.” 

She gives him her patented smile. “Hello Five, getting ready for bed?” 

Five nods, “Do you mind if we stay here for a little bit, while you charge?” he asks hesitantly. It feels like he’s a little boy at the doorway to his parents bedroom, asking if it’s alright to spend the night curled up in bed with them. He starts to backtrack, “It’s fine if not, I’m sure you prefer your privacy, we can just go--”

Grace pats the cushioned seat next to her. “Please, sit. Both of you. I would enjoy the company.” 

Five doesn’t waste any time saddling up next to her. He sits Delores next to him so that he’s in between both women. Safe. Not alone. Surrounded by two women who love him. 

He ends up falling asleep with his cheek pressed up against Graces’ shoulder. 

Grace sits there, unmoving, even after her charging station informs her that she’s at a hundred percent. She sits there well into the early morning hours, watching her son sleep peacefully, breathing in and out. 

Awake, Grace can see sometimes, his real age showing through, all fifty-eight years of him. But asleep like this, he’s just a child, unburdened by a lonely and difficult life. 

Oh, how she wishes that were so. 


End file.
